


The Sting

by dogpoet



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-07
Updated: 2009-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk gets stung by a Gorthonian jellyfish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sting

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for kink bingo: watersports. If that squicks you, do not read on.

Kirk tramps along through some sort of dense pine forest on the unexplored planet Gorthon. The low-growing branches catch at his shirt and swat him in the face. Overall, an unpleasant mission. Behind him, Spock stops occasionally to take a reading with the tricorder. The damn transporter is malfunctioning again, and Scotty says they'll be stuck here for at least six hours. Spock turns the delay into an opportunity to collect specimens. Kirk's just grateful they haven't encountered anything deadly.

"Captain," Spock calls from behind Kirk.

Kirk halts beside a knobby branch that looks like it wants to punch him in the face. The light under the pines is dim, and he leans close to Spock to see what his first officer is holding.

"Curious, is it not? Each of the scales appears to be sending out growth while still on the cone."

Kirk can feel the heat of Spock's body in the cool shade. He leans closer. From each of the small scales grows a pale green, erect shoot with a rounded tip. They're like little penises. Little Vulcan penises. He thinks maybe being close to Spock is messing with his brain. "Fascinating," he says, mocking Spock just a little because he likes to give his friend a hard time.

"I agree. The ingenuity of biological adaptations never ceases to amaze me." Spock places the cone inside a collection container.

Kirk wonders if Spock showed him that cone on purpose. Maybe that's how Vulcans flirt. Kirk has noticed that, in the last few months, Spock has come to him often to share things: specimens from planets they've visited, interstellar cloud formations, cultural artifacts from peoples they've encountered. Kirk supposes that communicating these discoveries is part of Spock's job, but it's the way Spock speaks of them that's changing. It's as if he wants Kirk to find them beautiful. It's the way he's been standing close, even though Vulcans rarely stand close to anyone. It's the way Spock comes to Kirk's quarters instead of sharing information on the bridge when everyone else is around.

Kirk walks on through the gnarled woods, letting the branches hit him in the face so he'll stop thinking about Spock. The sting feels good. Kirk wonders how the others are doing. They headed off toward the grassy slopes and up into the hills. At their last check-in via the communicators, they reported discovering a mountain stream with a waterfall. That sounds nice. Much better than wrestling with trees.

It's getting lighter up ahead, maybe an end to this piney, scratchy hell.

"I perceive saltwater," Spock comments.

Kirk sniffs. He can't smell it yet, but Spock is rarely wrong. The ocean would be refreshing. They walk on in silence for a moment longer, and then Kirk can hear the roaring of the waves. The sound is barely there, but then a gust of wind brings the smell of salt.

The pines thin out, and the ground becomes sandy under their feet. Soon they emerge onto a clear beach. The air is misty and cool. Kirk turns to shoot a smile at Spock.

"I predict that your next action will be to go for a swim, an activity I do not recommend, as we know nothing of this planet's oceans," Spock warns.

"That's why I have you." Kirk pulls off his boots, trying to take his time, but too eager, he almost trips and falls. "I have pine cones and needles down my shirt. I'm itchy as hell, and I'm going for a swim."

The shirt comes next. Then the pants. Spock is watching him, not undressing, but simply holding his tricorder. Finally, he seems to shake off whatever spell is holding him and nears the water, taking readings. Kirk, down to his skivvies, runs into the water.

"Captain, I really do not recommend --"

The water is cold. "Woooooo!" Kirk yells, diving under. He laughs. He knows it isn't very Captain-like of him, but only Spock will see, and Spock won't tell.

"Captain!"

Kirk surfaces, shakes his head, dislodging the water from his ears. The sky above him is filled with sparse, purple-tinged clouds.

"You should come in here!" Kirk calls out, even though he knows Spock would never do such a thing.

"I am getting life form readings from the water. It is impossible to ascertain if they will be harmful to you."

"All right, all right. I only wanted to get in for a second." Kirk swims in, liking the look of the pine forest, now that he's not walking through it. He emerges, staggering when his feet have to do their earthly duty again. He steps on something squishy. "Ow! Fuck!" He lifts his foot, crooks it to examine the underside.

Spock is already hovering near, his boots several inches deep in water. He peers at the sand, where a pale pink, gelatinous mass bobs in the small waves. "It appears to be a cnidarian of some kind. It has stung you."

"No shit, Spock. It hurts like hell."

Spock takes Kirk's arm and helps him up onto the dry beach. They sit on a large, flat rock. Spock cradles Kirk's foot in his hands, and tenderly brushes sand from the skin around the welt. He doesn't like what he sees, Kirk can tell. Spock tears his attention away from Kirk's foot and opens his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise."

"Scott here," comes through the tinny speaker.

"How soon will the transporter be ready to beam us up?" Spock asks.

"Another few hours, Commander."

"We have a minor medical emergency. Please inform us as soon as the transporter is ready."

"Will do. Scott out."

Spock looks down at Kirk with worry creasing his brow. Kirk's foot has swelled to the size of a grapefruit. The whole thing burns like someone's poured acid on the skin. Even the bone aches. "Isn't there anything we can do for it now?"

"Perhaps." Spock whips out his PADD and types something in. What he reads on the screen deepens the furrow in his brow.

"Let me guess, it's deadly." It seems like something's always trying to kill them. And he thought he was going to get off easy, just being hit in the face with pine branches.

"This species has not yet been documented, though it does bear a remarkable resemblance to an Arkarian jellyfish."

"I don't want to know about Arkarian jellyfish," Kirk complains.

"They may have a common physiology. The Arkarian jellyfish's sting is only deadly if left untreated," Spock says, his voice betraying nothing.

"Are you going to say 'I told you so'? Go ahead." Kirk is starting to feel really funny. A tingle spreads up his leg. This seems like a really undignified way for a Starfleet captain to die, in his underwear with a clubfoot.

Spock again takes Kirk's enlarged foot in his hands, studying the sting. "There is mention of a treatment, but I am not certain it will work in this instance. It's possible that you will survive until we are able to beam aboard."

"You heard Scotty. It's going to be hours. What's the treatment?" Kirk's breathing is fast and shallow now. He tries to control it -- he doesn't like to show pain.

"You may not want to undergo it."

"Unless it involves cutting off my foot, I think I do want to undergo it." Sometimes it takes forever for Spock to get to the point.

Spock hesitates, looking off in the other direction. "The application of Vulcan urine has been known to remove the nematocysts that are causing your reaction."

Kirk gives Spock a look: Bullshit.

"I do not jest. There is a particular chemical present in the urine of my species --"

"Okay, I get it. Fine. Just do it." Kirk lies back on the rock. He and Spock are friends. They've almost killed each other. A little piss isn't going to come between them.

"Very well," Spock says, actually looking embarrassed. He kneels on the rock beside Kirk's foot.

Kirk has never seen Spock in any stage of undress. His first officer never even rolls up his sleeves. Kirk finds it oddly arousing to think of seeing Spock's bare arms. He can't make himself look away as Spock unbuttons his pants, unzips them, and pushes them down over his hips. Instead of reaching into the opening of his briefs, he pushes those down over his hips as well, never once looking at Kirk's face.

Kirk isn't prepared for the paleness of Spock's ass, the unblemished skin. The shock of dark hair framing his penis. Using his right hand to direct the flow, Spock begins taking a leak on Kirk's foot. The first splash brings immediate relief. The pain ebbs, and Kirk senses that whatever was causing the reaction is safely gone. He doesn't tell Spock, though, because now a strange pleasure is overtaking his senses, as if someone is massaging his foot. Spock's piss is hot, and Kirk can't stop thinking how it has just been _inside_ Spock, in a place no one has ever touched. There's a strong smell of salt, similar to the ocean, but different. He can't stop thinking how he's probably the only person who has ever had this particular experience with Spock. Kirk imagines that he's been marked. Spock pissed on him to claim him, to own him. His dick is as hard as the rock beneath him, and there's not a thing he can do to hide it under his wet, white briefs.

Spock finishes. Gives his penis a slight shake before pulling up his briefs. "I believe the remedy is working. Has your pain subsided?" He still refuses to look at Kirk as he zips his pants.

Kirk doesn't answer. Spock's covering up has left him feeling lost, like he needs to find his way back home again. Spock darts a glance in Kirk's direction. "Captain?"

"Spock," Kirk says under his breath. His need has become almost as painful as the sting. Spock has seen his erection, he knows it, but his first officer turns his eyes away. Kirk can hear Spock's breathing, can see the faint greenish tinge racing to the tips of his ears. Kirk sits up, getting in Spock's personal space. Maybe it's the crashing of the waves on the beach, but he feels a little reckless.

"I don't think I'm fully recovered yet," Kirk growls in Spock's ear. "I might need a little more."

"The swelling in your foot is subsiding," Spock says, still not looking Kirk in the eye, but not moving away either. His gaze falls to Kirk's lap. "However, you appear to be experiencing some side effects."

Kirk reaches for the front of Spock's pants. Places a hand there. He can feel that Spock is hard, too, under his clothes. Finally, Spock looks up, his mouth slightly open. Kirk has always loved those lips, even when he hated Spock. He closes the distance between them, opening his mouth right away, letting his tongue venture into Spock's mouth. Spock makes a little sound, an 'mmm', and then Kirk is in the grip of strong hands, being lowered to the rock, rolled onto his back, pinned.

Spock kisses Kirk hungrily, like something inside him has been unleashed. They grind against one another as if they can grind away the want. Kirk slides his hands under Spock's shirt. Can't seem to get the shirt off. Arms in the way. He makes a noise of frustration. Spock pulls back, sits up, yanks the shirt over his head in a very un-Spock-like fashion. His mouth is wet and open, his face flushed green.

"Pants," Kirk commands, working his own briefs down over his hips and off. He tosses them aside while Spock works once again on the fastening of his pants.

Spock seems momentarily stymied by his boots, which should have come off first. Kirk reaches over to help, yanking one of them off while Spock works on the other. Sand and rock are abrading the skin of his ass, but he can't bring himself to care because Spock's dick is standing at attention, a lovely green the color of the pine cone shoots. The look in Spock's eyes is nothing like the curious and academic default. It's almost feral. He leaps on Kirk, pinning him again. Kirk wraps his heavy, swollen-footed leg around Spock, holding him close. The foot is still tender, a little sensitive. He can feel the faint sensation of Spock's piss evaporating from his skin. Spock's dick prods at him, at his stomach, then dips between the cheeks of his ass as Spock moves.

Kirk rolls them over, and Spock lets him, as if he knows what Kirk wants. The rock digs painfully into Kirk's knees as he straddles Spock's legs and looks down at him. The expression on Spock's face is one Kirk has never seen before: wide-eyed and open. Kirk bends to take Spock's cock in his fist, drawing his face close. It's a thrill he hasn't felt since his first days of exploring new planets. He makes mental notes of color, size, smell... He touches his tongue to a drop of fluid leaking from the tip. Taste. He shudders, remembering the feel of first contact when Spock pissed on him.

There are grains of sand on his tongue as he slides it across the flare. He wonders if Spock can feel them, rough in contrast to his flesh. He bobs up and down, clenching his hand around the base of Spock's dick. When Spock comes, Kirk is again flooded with the sensation of knowing some part of Spock that has never been revealed. He holds the liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

Spock hoists himself onto his elbows. His pale chest is feathered with dark hair and a few nasty scratches from their earlier trek through the woods. He sits up gracefully, getting up on his knees so he and Kirk are face to face. Kirk almost loses his balance from Spock's kiss, he'd fall over if Spock didn't have a hold on his dick, if Spock wasn't doing a crazy thing with his fingers, some weird kind of acupressure at the point just behind his balls. It's good, so good. And fingers are working their way inside him, burning, while the other hand fists his dick, bringing him to the edge. Kirk grabs Spock's ass, just to have something to hold onto as their teeth clash, lips bruise, in a battle of wills. Kirk feels the orgasm building in his spine, hears himself making strange sounds, thinks Spock's fingers might actually be talking to his body or something, sending messages like blips of Morse code. He's coming. He falls forward, biting Spock's shoulder, leaving a mark.

They hold each other in place while the world stills. The tide is coming up fast, racing toward the bit of rock, then receding. It's quiet but for their breathing and the sound of waves. Then Spock says: "The PADD transmission failed to mention the need for subsequent treatment with other bodily fluids. However, your foot has returned to its normal size."

"Where did you learn to do that?" Kirk asks, honestly curious.

"To what are you referring?"

"That thing. With your fingers." Kirk lifts his head from Spock's shoulder, and kisses a pointy ear. He knows without looking that Spock's face is dead serious.

"It was only logical. That is a sensitive area of the human body containing numerous nerve bundles."

Kirk smiles.

***

Back on the ship, Kirk avoids McCoy's queries about their medical emergency, bluntly telling him it's been taken care of. Just a few bad scratches, that's all. A few bumps and bruises. It's as much of the truth as Kirk is willing to offer. McCoy seems surprised by the lack of injuries, and mutters something about how the two of them are always getting into trouble. Kirk doesn't mention the jellyfish, or the fact that he'd willingly be stung again if Spock were onhand to treat him.

Days later, Kirk stops by Spock's quarters for a late night visit. There on the desk, he spies the specimen jar containing the exuberant Gorthonian pine cone, its scales spread wide, shoots emergent.

***


End file.
